“Nature takes time to manifest her laws,” replied the monk.—“And it must be remembered that what we call ‘time’ is not Nature’s counting at all. The method Nature has of counting time may be faintly guessed by proven scientific fact,—as, for instance, take the comet which appeared in 1744. Strict mathematicians calculated that this brilliant world (for it is a world) needs 122,683 years to perform one single circuit! And yet the circuit of a comet is surely not so much time to allow for God and Nature to declare a meaning!”
El-Râmi shuddered slightly.
“All the same, it is horrible to think of,” he said.—“All those enormous periods,—those eternal vastnesses! For, during the 122,683 years we die, and pass into the silence.”
“Into the silence or the explanation?” queried the monk softly.—“For there is an Explanation,—and we are all bound to know it at some time or other, else Creation would be but a poor and bungling business.”
“If we are bound to know,” said El-Râmi, “then every living creature is bound to know, since every living creature suffers cruelly, in wretched ignorance of the cause of its suffering. To every atom, no matter how infinitely minute, must be given this ‘explanation,’—to dogs and birds as well as men—nay, even to flowers must be declared the meaning of the mystery.”
“Unless the flowers know already!” suggested the monk with a smile.—“Which is quite possible!”
“Oh, everything is ‘possible’ according to your way of thinking,” said El-Râmi somewhat impatiently. “If one is a visionary, one would scarcely be surprised to see the legended ‘Jacob’s ladder’ leaning against that dark midnight sky and the angels descending and ascending upon it. And so—” here he touched the two rolls of manuscript lying on the table, “you find no use in these?”
“I personally have no use for them,” responded his guest, “but, as you desire it, I will take charge of them and place them in safe keeping at the monastery. Every little link helps to forge the chain of discovery, of course. By the way, while on this subject, I must not forget to speak to you about poor old Kremlin. I had a letter from him about two months ago. I very much fear that famous disc of his will be his ruin.”
“Such an intimation will console him vastly!” observed El-Râmi sarcastically.
“Consolation has nothing to do with the matter. If a man rushes wilfully into danger, danger will not move itself out of the way for him. I always told Kremlin that his proposed design was an unsafe one, even before he went out to Africa fifteen years ago in search of the magnetic spar—a crystalline formation whose extraordinary reflection-power he learned from me. However, it must be admitted that he has come marvellously close to the unravelling of the enigma at which he works. And when you see him next you may tell him from me that if he can—mind, it is a very big ‘if’—if he can follow the movements of the Third Ray on his disc he will be following the signals from Mars. To make out the meaning of those signals is quite another matter—but he can safely classify them as the light-vibrations from that particular planet.”